Running from the Sun
by Lucille Younger
When he died
she wrapped herself
in anonymity.
Protected from
the whirling winds
that sought to claim her
and shielded from
the pelting rains
hell-bent to tame her.
She made a game of
running from the sun,
so light would not invade
the crawl space deep
within her soul
where she had stored
the riddle of her sphinx.
In intervening years
the heart that he
had likened to
a mammoth sea
had atrophied,
pumping just enough
that she might
sleep, eat and laugh
and sing sweet,
solo songs
waiting for the time
to come when
they again
would sing
as one.
A veteran of acquaintances,
of harmonies unsung,
continued she her journey
running from the sun.
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